#Butterfly Gift Options

[noisycowboyglitter]

"Why Every Grandma Needs a Groovy Momo Butterfly T-Shirt in Her Wardrobe"

Grandma Groovy Momo, with her vibrant spirit and love for butterflies, is a true character. Her home is a kaleidoscope of colors, much like the wings of her beloved lepidoptera. Visitors are greeted by a garden teeming with butterfly-friendly plants, a testament to her green thumb and passion for nature.

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Inside, Momo's walls are adorned with an eclectic mix of butterfly artwork - from vintage scientific illustrations to psychedelic 1960s-inspired prints. Her collection of butterfly brooches, accumulated over decades, sparkles from a display case, each with its own story.

Momo's fashion sense is as unique as she is. She often sports flowing, butterfly-print kaftans or tie-dye shirts paired with her signature oversized, butterfly-shaped sunglasses. Her silver hair is usually adorned with butterfly clips, adding to her whimsical appearance.

But it's not just about aesthetics for Grandma Groovy Momo. She's a fountain of butterfly knowledge, always ready to share fascinating facts about migration patterns or caterpillar diets. She volunteers at the local butterfly conservatory and holds workshops for children, passing on her love for these delicate creatures.

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Despite her age, Momo's energy seems boundless. She flits from one activity to another, much like her winged friends. Whether she's tending to her garden, creating butterfly-inspired art, or regaling her grandchildren with tales of her hippie days, Grandma Groovy Momo spreads joy wherever she goes, a human embodiment of the beauty and free spirit of butterflies.

Women's shirts from the 70s and 80s are a vibrant blast from the past, embodying the bold and expressive spirit of these decades. The 70s brought us flowing peasant blouses with puffed sleeves, often adorned with intricate embroidery or floral patterns. Disco-inspired satin shirts with dramatic collars were perfect for nights out.

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The 80s amped up the volume with oversized, off-the-shoulder sweatshirts in neon colors. Power dressing introduced crisp, padded-shoulder blouses for the workplace. Graphic tees featuring pop culture icons became popular casual wear.

Both decades embraced prints: psychedelic swirls, bold geometric shapes, and tropical motifs. Materials ranged from natural fabrics like cotton and silk to the emerging popularity of synthetic blends.

These retro styles continue to influence fashion, offering women playful and nostalgic wardrobe options.

A gift butterfly brings a touch of natural elegance to any occasion. This delightful present might take the form of a delicate piece of jewelry, such as a pendant or earrings, capturing the butterfly's graceful silhouette. It could be a colorful garden ornament, adding a

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whimsical flutter to outdoor spaces. For the nature enthusiast, a butterfly identification guide or a kit to grow butterfly-attracting plants makes a thoughtful choice. Decorative items like butterfly-themed throw pillows or wall art bring a sense of transformation and beauty into the home. Each butterfly gift symbolizes growth, change, and the wonder of nature.

[annalrk]

i hope fairs in fashion dreamer will eventually cycle back tbh, bc i missed the fantasy event and the butterfly eye shines... save me butterfly eyeshines... save me...

[intuitively-her]

You are so gorgeous/handsome, and you look very put together.😍 People know that they gotta come correct if they want to come towards you. You're a charmer. You might unintentionally flirt with people a lot. You're a HUGE lover girl/boy. Your hugs are the best. And you could be a gift-giver as well. I'm getting family vibes here. You seem to be detached and in your own world most of the time. You have this mysterious vibe to you. You don't give too much of yourself away at once. You like to take risks and can be a wildcard at times. This is really admired by others. You're the fun friend in your group. Your energy reminds me of Maddy Perez and Nikki from save the last dance. I’m also channeling Santana from glee lol. You could be very popular. Someone here is in a leadership position. Sports team captain? You lead with logic and practicality. Someone here likes to debate with others. This is my argumentative pile. King of swords energy. You're veryyy disciplined when it comes to your work. Literally nothing or no one could knock you off balance. And you've literally worked to bring your manifestations to life. You're that girl/guy because you remain strong even through your darkest times. You always stay committed to yourself. You remain hard on the outside, but soft n gooey on the inside.🥰

Extra confirmation: Famous, Mean girl, Younger woman, Elusive, Intoxicating, Bitchy, Stuck-up, Sarcastic, Apathetic, Smart ass, Beautiful, Sexy Voice, Friendly, Co-worker, Side chick/side man

Channeled songs: Try again by Aaliyah and Antidote by Travis Scott

Things always seem to work out for you no matter what. Some people view you as a "good luck charm" lol. It's like you have the Midas touch or something. You're very strategic with your plans. Smart, sexy, and independent. You have a very balanced and precise mindset. People could never really cross you. You're always 10 steps ahead. Your energy reminds me of TheWizardLiz. This is my workaholic pile. You've built everything that you have from the ground up. Magician energy. You're a master manifestor.⭐ Your fairness is very admired. You're not afraid to speak up for what you believe in. You could give great advice as well. You have such a light energy! You have a very open and honest personality. You might be a social butterfly. You live more of luxurious lifestyle. I heard "livin like larry"😂. You could have a really nice car. Someone here has beautiful long legs. For someone specific here, you are that girl/guy because you didn't allow a heartbreak to change you. You stayed strong and compassionate.

Extra confirmation: Competitive, Obsessive, Impulsive, Pretty skin/skin tone, Liar, Charming, Player, Dark-skin, Boss, Confident, Humble, Big butt, Trustworthy, Mixed signals

Channeled songs: Act up by City girls and Independent women pt.1 by Destiny's child

You've fought hard to get to the position that you're in today. The luxuries that you have did not come easy. I'm channeling the movies "The pursuit of happiness" and "The Wolf of Wall Street". You may have struggled a bit growing up. But you didn't let that define you. It took a lot of commitment to get where you are today. Someone here could work with stocks. I heard "business mogul". You like to remain optimistic and keep your options open. You're very kindhearted and uplifting to others. You are such a giver. Many people would consider you a "girls girl". Heavy water sign energy. People know that they can count on you for a good time. You have a very bold and confident personality. You walk into rooms like you own the place. Star energy. You're the kim k in your family/friend group lol. A lot of strangers assume that you're famous or some type of influencer. Someone here could wear afro-centric hairstyles.

Extra confirmation: Wifey energy, Trustworthy, Feline eyes, Introvert, Pretty eyes, Eccentric, One night stand, Younger woman, Charming, Cheater, Egotistical, Sister, Intoxicating, Funny

Channeled songs: P power by Gunna and Wife at home by Bryson Tiller

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🌸Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!🌸

*Credits to @anitalenia and @sultryana for the text dividers🩷*

Masterlist

Paid readings

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[mayajadewrites]

birthday sex

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆synopsis˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆: you're kento nanami's wife, and today just so happens to be his birthday.

warnings: creampie, mentions of babies, unprotected sex, oral fem! receiving , face riding

happy birthday to nanami kento, i hope you're relaxing on a beach in malaysia <3

"And, done." You lit the last candle on the table before looking around your home that you share with your husband, Kento Nanami.

Instead of taking his birthday off, he decided to work today. He said he'd rather miss you all day and come home to his favorite gift of all.

Life with Nanami is so simple. Once you wed, you became a stay at home wife. Your choice. You love cooking and cleaning for your hunk of a husband, so this is almost a dream job.

You pad over to the full length mirror that stays between the entryway and the living room, making sure your outfit, or lack there-of, looked perfect.

Last week Nanami took you to the mall to go lingerie shopping, to which you picked out a handful of pieces. You took note at the look on his face for each outfit, even though he loved all of them - there was one in particular that made him almost feral.

Your hands dragged over your voluptuous curves, which you knew made your husband go mad. He describes you as 'soft' and 'delicious'. You're wearing a teal lacy one piece, with a deep v that has your tits spilling out. You have a matching mesh robe laying over your body, cascading to the floor in the most angelic way.

Your hair is curled, skin is moisturized and scented with your favorite perfume that Nanami got you for Christmas the first year you started dating, which smells like roses, with a hint of vanilla.

You didn't apply much makeup - it would get ruined tonight anyways.

In the kitchen is a table full of all of Nanami's favorite dishes: sandwiches with your homemade bread, as well as miso ramen. He loves fruit, so you had a plethora of options for him, but you knew he would love the strawberries you picked from your garden that you both love to work on on the weekends.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

You heard tires roll onto your driveway - your husband is home.

To this day, you still get butterflies whenever you're anticipating his arrival.

Like clockwork, he locked the car, twice, opened the door to the mudroom and took his shoes off, then opened the door into the home.

"Happy birthday, baby!" You open your arms as his eyes meet yours. A smile creeps onto his face as he sets his briefcase down, walking quickly towards you to pick you up and spin you around.

"The best gift." Nanami pressed his lips to your forehead, nose, then to your lips. "Thank you, darling."

Nanami's eyes dragged over your figure once he put you down, his calloused hand pressed to your plush hip. "Is this one that we bought last week?"

"Mhm. You like?" A smile tugs at your lips as you give him a twirl.

"Honey, I love." He almost growled, pulling you into his bubble. You wrapped your arms around his neck, piling kisses onto his lips. His mouth wandered to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your skin.

"Kento, we have to eat dinner first." Your back arched as you spoke, feeling your husbands fiery lips kiss the sensitive spot on your neck.

"My dinner is right here." He spoke in-between kisses, making sure not one centimeter was left untouched.

"No dessert before dinner my love, you know the rules." Reluctantly, you pulled away to walk into your kitchen. Nanami's eyes widened at the foods on the table - he didn't know where to start. He loves how you always make sure he's taken care of, in every sense.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

"Delicious as always, darling."

"Of course, Kento." You washed the final dish before turning around to face your husband. He's in front of you now as you lean back against the sink, his broad shoulders hovering over you.

"Now can I get my dessert?" Nanami pressed a hand to your hip, rubbing small circles on your skin as the other hand pushed a hair out of your face.

Without words, you answered him by pressing your lips to his. Your lips moved slowly, leaving room for your tongue to invade his mouth. His arms caged you at the counter - the veins on his arms clearly visible. Your hands glided up his chiseled chest, feeling the beat of his heart in your palm.

"You have my entire heart, darling." Kento purred into your mouth as he moved his lips against yours, lewd noises coming from your mouths colliding.

You could taste the strawberry on his tongue as you kissed him, only intoxicating you more. Nanami's hands gripped your hips as he hoisted you onto the counter - him in between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

You looked down at him, relishing this moment. He seemed to be doing the same, his honey colored eyes glistening.

His hands gripped your lace bodysuit, pulling on it ever so gently, making sure not to rip it. Then they traveled up your soft tummy to your chest, kneading your tits with more force.

You pressed a hand to the back of his head, feeling his fresh undercut that he got done yesterday. His mouth landed on your chest, biting, sucking, and kissing the sensitive skin. You felt his fingers push the fabric away from your tit, revealing your erect nipple.

Kento peered up through his lashes, watching your expression as he took the nub into his mouth, sucking slowly. "Oh, Kento." You moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist. Never ignoring your other breast - he gripped it with his other hand, massaging gently.

One thing about your husband - he wants to give you the most pleasure, even on days that are supposed to be about him.

Kento continued kissing, sucking, and biting your breasts, leaving purple marks all over your chest.

"Baby, bed please." You whine, your voice breathless as you feel your body heat up, gripping his shoulders the best you could.

"How can I say no to you when you say please like a good girl?" He purred, holding you up as he stepped back from the counter. You smiled as he walked the both of you to your bedroom, which was also lit with candles. You kissed his cheek gently as he walked, feeling his back muscles contract as your nails dragged along the fabric of his shirt.

He laid you down gently onto the plush fabric of the comforter, watching your hair splay out. He laid down on his back next to you, pulling you on top of him. "Are you having a good birthday, Kento?" You whisper, rolling yourself onto your stomach. He reaches for you, pulling you onto his lap.

"Mm, yes." He gripped the fat of your hips, pulling your body towards his face as you straddled him. "I'm ready for my second course."

"We just ate, Kento-" You giggle as he pulls your aching core onto his face, his hand moving the fabric away from your cunt gently.

"I'm still hungry." You watched his eyes flicker up to you as he plunged his tongue inside your core, earning a moan from you.

Kento fiddled with the body suit, eventually snapping the buttons so he could pull you fully onto his face.

"You know I love when you sit on my face, angel." Kento's hands planted on the fat of your ass, kneading your cheeks as he wrapped his lips around your clit.

"K-Kento-" Your thighs start to quiver as he takes turns sucking on your clit, to burying his tongue inside of you. The room filled with the sounds of Kento devouring your cunt like it was his last meal.

You rocked your hips against his face gently, feeling the contours of his face on your cunt.

He knew that you were close, so he brought one of his hands that were on your ass to your aching clit, massaging it in circles with two fingers.

"F-fuck, baby, ah-" Your thighs pressed together, squishing his face as you came. Instinctively, you lifted yourself up but Kento pulled you right back down.

Once he felt satisfied with his meal, he pulled his face out from under you, which was coated in your juices. He dipped his index finger inside you, then bringing the digit to your lips.

"Taste." Kento demanded. One thing about your husband, he wanted you to know how obsessed he was with you. He wanted you to taste how delicious you are.

You open your mouth slightly as he pushed his finger past your swollen lips.

"Delicious, hm?" He wiped part of his face with the back of his hand before gently pushing you off of him to peel off his clothes. You watched as he the fabric fell to the floor, mesmerized by his physique.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

"Kento." You whispered, as if you weren't in your own house. As if other people could be listening.

"Yes my love?" His large hand rested on your shoulder as he pulled the straps down of your lingerie. He marveled in how good the color looked against your skin, his fingers gliding down your arm.

"I-I want a baby." Your doe eyes find his, searching his eyes for an answer before his mouth says it.

"A baby? Are you sure?" He pressed his hands to your thighs. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do that just for me."

"That was always the plan, Kento." You moved your body closer to his on the bed. "We've been married for four years. I'm ready."

A smile graced Kento's face as he kissed you more times than you can count.

"How did I get so lucky with you?" He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

You felt the same. Being married to Kento feels like a fairytale every single day. Like you won the lottery.

"Happy birthday, baby." You pressed a sultry kiss to his lips, cradling his face in your hands.

He look a deep breath as he kissed you, slowly pushing you down on your back onto the bed. You looked down at his lower half, your breath hitching when you see his impressive cock. Even though you see it constantly, every time feels like you've never seen it before.

Kento aligned his leaking pink tip with your cunt, gently pressing as he moved his hips. He kept his eyes on yours as he sheathed himself into you, your walls stretching around his cock.

You closed your eyes as he pushed his entire length into you, his heavy balls hitting your skin.

"Keep your eyes open, honey." He brought his finger to your chin, lifting it so you're looking into his eyes. "I want to watch you as I put a baby inside of you."

Your mouth turned into an 'o' shape as he gained his rhythm, never leaving your gaze.

"You're taking my cock so well, you're always so tight." He praised you as he buried himself into your cunt. "Like a good girl, hm?"

You fight the urge to close your eyes as he thrusts into you at a quicker pace, the sound of his balls hitting your body as he plows into you.

"A-ah, I'm close darling." He watched you as his strokes became uneven. You watched the fire in his eyes as your walls fluttered and squeezed against his cock, milking him dry.

"Kento, fill me up, please."

He could never say no to you. Ever.

His entire body twitched as he put in his last strokes, his breath staggered. "I'm gonna put a baby in that belly of yours, you're gonna be swollen with m-my seed."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed himself into you one last time, coating your walls with his juices.

He emptied himself into you for what felt like minutes. Slowly, he removed himself from you, a whine leaving your lips. You're spoiled with him, truly.

He panted, squeezing your body against his gently as he kissed the side of your face. "Are you okay?"

"I always am my love." You nod as he caresses your face with his knuckles. "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"I always do with you. And next year, maybe we'll have a little one to celebrate with too." He pressed his hand onto your tummy, rubbing it gently as if theres already a baby Kento growing inside of you.

One thing led to another, and there you were... on his cock... again.

"We gotta make sure there's a baby in you by tonight." Kento chuckled as he pulled you on top of him once again, kissing your swollen pink lips as you pushed yourself onto his cock once again. He watched his length disappear inside of you as his hands slapped your ass cheeks, his head laying on the pillows.

You looked down at your pussy swallowing his cock, shaking your ass is you move up and down his length. Curses and moans left his lips as you rode him, your walls squeezing tight around him.

"K-kento, I'm gonna come again."

"Go on darling."

You rocked your hips against him, your walls twitching around him as you used his cock to fuck yourself. The euphoria hit you hard as you came, your hands clenching his biceps as your entire body twitched.

As he watched you grind on him, he felt another wave of pleasure. He pressed his cock up into you, filling you again.

You're both panting as you come down from your highs, smiles on your faces because you both fucked each other dumb.

"Thank you for being my other half." Kento pulled you into his arms, your face on his chest as you felt his heart rate slow down.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you more my darling."

[peachdues]

demon slayer spoilers ahead but:

we know that after Muzan’s defeat, Sanemi gifts Kaburamaru to Kanao, but only when he “visits” the Butterfly Mansion (sometime after Tanjiro awakens, which is approximately 2-3 months after Muzan’s defeat).

So, my question is: do we think Sanemi carried Kaburamaru around on his shoulders just like Obanai? I’m inclined to say yes, if only because I don’t think Kaburamaru gave him an option. He was too used to being carried 🥺

[kumkaniudaku]

Mine

Summary: Happy Valentine's Day!

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Flurries of Valentine's candy grams and foil balloons filled Patrice's 3rd-period senior AP English classroom as she ran through a reflection question on August Wilson's Fences. While February was set aside for love, it was also the one time Mrs. Richmond was allowed to discuss Black literature in the school year without pushback from administration and parents alike. 

Just as pencils hit the paper to answer why Friday nights were significant for the play's central characters, a short beep and static filled the intercom system in the classroom. 

"Ms. Ellis -"

"It's Richmond," the class sang in chorus, earning a smile from Patrice. 

The voice on the other end chuckled before course-correcting. "Mrs. Richmond, we have a delivery in the front office for you. Do you want to come get it or send a student?" 

"Uh, I'll send someone down," Patrice answered. She pointed at her most responsible senior and silently directed him to grab the hall pass. "Can you say what it is? I didn't order anything." 

"Sorry. We're under strict instructions not to spoil the surprise." 

Terry. She didn't need additional explanation to figure out who'd taken time from their day to send a gift and request silence from strangers. He was cool as a cucumber when he left for work in the morning, but the uncharacteristic lilt in his voice on the way to a place he frequently expressed disdain towards was a dead giveaway he'd be dropping their promise to skip gifts and enjoy a quiet evening. 

Pregnancy and all its financial planning meant no money in reserves. No honeymoon, no big trips, and nothing extravagant for holidays. An unfortunate byproduct of looming parenthood on a modest income, but Patrice had made her peace with it all. They'd get the time back when Baby Richmond was old enough to spend a few days with their parents.

Anticipation collided with excitement as a bouquet of snowdrops and roses eclipsing her student's head was wheeled around the corner. Only her husband would commit seasonal flowers to memory from an offhanded conversation about rotating seeds in her garden for the spring. Whoever he'd paid to expertly arrange her winter staples into such a stunning display deserved their fair share of coins and then some. 

'Treece, Will you be mine?' scribbled in Terry's signature handwriting sat above a QR code on a small white card, eager for Patrice's attention once she got her hands around the ornate vase. 

"Mrs. Richmond got a valentiiine," one student teased to draw laughter from everyone in the room. 

That she did. It was her first in years and the one she'd longed for the whole time. She couldn't hide her smile when she took the final few minutes of reflection time to scan the code and watch her phone screen light up with another message after eagerly tapping the 'yes' option. 

"Merci, mon amour. I still owe you a honeymoon. I hope tonight will keep you excited until we get to touch Paris with our own two feet. See you soon. Je t'aime."

A goofy grin pressed past the neutral facade Patrice tried to maintain while butterflies fluttered inside her belly. Light jeering from students awaiting instruction and any piece of their favorite teacher's business she was willing to pass down only pushed her growing smile further across her face. 

Patrice read the message one more time for the road and clasped her hands together. "Alright! If we have some thought-provoking responses today, everybody gets their lowest grade dropped. Deal?" 

Long after his wife had made agreements with a cohort of 17 and 18-year-olds, Terry stood in their quaint kitchen, carefully placing beignets in the oven to keep warm. For all his exhaustive research into easy Parisian dishes to replicate at home, he knew his limits and how to circumnavigate the one thing Patrice specifically desired to taste in Paris. He searched high and low for the perfect dupe, drove nearly an hour away, almost fell behind in the cooking process, and still didn't regret going out of his way for the perfectly golden French donuts.

Steak awaiting its introduction to a sizzling pan rested near wrapped cowboy butter from Terry's father and a bowl of cut fries floating in ice-cold water. Oil popped as it reached its target cooking temperature. A bottle of non-alcoholic wine sat in a bucket flanked by the good dishes Patrice reserved for special occasions and another seasonal bouquet. In the living room, Marvin Gaye's 'I Want You' spun 'round and 'round on Patrice's old vinyl player, filling the house with some of Terry's favorite tracks. Candles lit strategically cast shadows on the walls for an added level of romance. The live stream of the Eiffel Tower taking over their wall-mounted TV looked out of place, but Terry wasn't willing to part with the silly addition meant to add realism to the night. 

Terry's humming kept his mind on track in a whirlwind of pans and dwindling time. The night had to be perfect. After years of wasted time and missed opportunities, he owed Patrice his best effort in their inaugural celebration. 

A car door slamming shut just as piping hot homemade frites were freed from the frying process made Terry's eyes flicker up to the wall clock to check the time. Finally, she was home. Work and responsibilities had already sucked up too much of her time. He planned to take up what was left with his undivided attention. 

After dusting his hands on a dish towel, Terry stepped out of the kitchen to meet the love of his life at the living room's threshold. 

Her grin, full of mirth and crafted solely for his pleasure, made his stomach turn a flip. He leaned against the wooden frame, watching her hang her coat on the hoot. "Hé, ma belle." 

"Wow. He's fine as all hell and speaks French? I'm a lucky girl." Patrice's compliment came with arms outstretched to wrap around Terry's neck. Strong hands pulled her close until his nose was pressed to pulse at her neck. She giggled into his ear. "Hi, Pooh Bear. Happy Valentine's Day. Thank you for my gift." 

Terry murmured into Patrice's neck. "Of course. Happy Valentine's Day, baby." He squeezed her sides before pulling back to kiss her forehead. "You like your flowers?" 

"I did. They're beautiful. Who taught you about snowdrops and QR codes, old man?" Her lighthearted jab came with long, slender fingers gently stroking his chest overtop his fresh black t-shirt. 

"The QR code came from the annoying ass Wyatt. Felt like I should get something out of always having to hear him talk shit about the Panthers." Terry took hold of Patrice's hand to drop kisses on her knuckles. "The flower knowledge came from this really pretty girl I know from way back. You think she'd be cool with havin' dinner with me tonight?"

Patrice felt herself returning to the shy girl of her youth. "She'd love to. Can she have a minute to clean up?" 

"Take all the time you need. Dinner will be ready when you come out." 

Two lingering kisses on her lips and a two-hand squeeze on her backside sent Patrice squealing around the corner and into the bedroom while Terry set off to finish preparing the night's meal. 

Wafts of Terry's cologne intertwined with Patrice's perfume in the bathroom's humidity, caught in a tango while she stood in front of the mirror trying to tame bags beneath tired eyes with concealer. Excitement coursed through her veins like her first date with the man of her dreams was on the other side of another light layer of perfectly pink blush. She couldn't fix her hair, dab lip gloss on her full lips, or slide on the floor-length lounge dress she purchased fast enough. Every second spent outside of Terry's presence felt like torture until she was sauntering into the kitchen to find him awaiting her arrival at the kitchen table. 

A low whistle passed through slightly pursed lips. "Sometimes I still can't believe you chose me," Terry started, his hand outstretched for Patrice to grab hold. "Come here. Let me see you up close." 

Patrice took slow steps forward to revel in Terry's attention, loving the way he seemed to see nothing else in the room but her. No flaws, no rising insecurities – only the most perfect version of the girl he fell in love with before love truly had meaning. 

"If you spend all night looking at me, we're gonna waste your baby letting me keep food down all week. I need those beignets in the oven," she joked as soon as she was close enough for him to grab.

With her hand in his, Terry helped Patrice spin in a slow circle, drinking in every inch of her body before stopping to pull her into his lap. "I can't hide anything from your mommy. You gave her a super nose." His words came in a soft, silly voice he almost couldn't control as he rubbed the slight pudge of Patrice's belly. "This dinner is very special, champ. Let us enjoy tonight, okay?" 

"All of it, you hear? Your daddy brought Paris to us, and I will eat this steak whether you like it. Well done and all!" 

Baby Richmond had no objections to well-done steak and crispy frites, even fighting for more of their father's rare cooking as conversation meandered between the day's happenings and the type of mushy romantic back and forth that sounded almost too cheesy to be true. Terry and Patrice ate, drank, and traveled down memory lane until their stomachs ached and their eyes were misty from laughter.

Things I Love About Terry. Terry smiled as he scrolled through the digital scrapbook Patrice crafted to get around their gifting rule. Reason #8 was his favorite: I love when we kiss, and he doesn't want to pull away. It reminds me of our first one every time. 

He chuckled. "That's cute that you still remember that. It's also cute that you think this doesn't count as a gift."

"No! We had a no paid gift rule. I didn't spend money on it. Which you broke first, by the way." 

"Flowers are not a gift. They come with the service." Terry listened to Patrice regard his Boondocks callback with a mumbled 'whatever' and smiled before locking his phone. "But, since free gifts don't count, I have something for you." 

Patrice danced in her seat, preparing for another sweet treat to satisfy her cravings. "Is it a turnover? I hope it's a turnover." 

"You're pushing it, Treece. Don't make me tell your business at the next appointment." 

"Snitch." 

Terry shook his head at her mumbled insult while he dug behind containers of protein powder in the one cupboard she had never opened for the gift he'd been holding since the day things bloomed, burned, and resurrected between them.

If not for his mother's antsy mind getting the better of her earlier in the week, Terry would've never uncovered the gem hidden in his childhood bedroom's closet. The weathered outer cover had long been scrubbed free of any identifiable marker of its contents, but page after page of dated ramblings reminded him of all the lofty goals he'd written as a teen. Dreams of a booming NFL career and a utopian society concocted from a naive mind littered each page. 

He flipped and laughed for several minutes until he reached the entry coincidentally dated for his 16th birthday. Imagine you've jumped 10 years into the future and are writing a letter to your current self. What might your life look like? Talk about your career, family, and any additional details you desire. 

The "love letter," as his father called the two-page plan for his next decade of life. Terry had gone to great lengths to hide it after Marvin's teasing, guarding the speckled notebook with his life and tossing it into his closet once the schoolyear ended to rid himself of the embarrassment. He never expected to live out much of the wishful thinking penned on the withering, yellow pages of yesteryear, much less share them with the subject of his affection then and now. 

Patrice watched Terry slide the open notebook across the table with a quizzical look, glancing down at half-legible chicken scratch and then back up at her husband. "What's this?" 

"It's history," he answered plainly with a secretive smile. He slid into his seat and pointed at the notebook. "Can you read that to me?" 

More questions bounced behind Patrice's eyes, but she saved them all to fulfil Terry's wish with no pushback. Blinking the blur from old contact lenses, she started from the top. 

"Hey Past Terry. It's you from the future. I know you have a bunch of questions, but I'm only going to answer the important ones. You'll just have to figure out the rest on your own. It wouldn't be as fun if I gave you all the answers. To start, your life is completely different. You haven't won a championship yet, but you're close. You'll get there soon, and when you do, it'll be the biggest story on ESPN. You'll get to watch all the talk in your big house in California that overlooks the beach. It's nice. You get to go down there every day during the offseason." Patrice smiled and looked up at Terry. "We both owe Young Terry at least a weekend at the beach." 

Terry's half smile grew wider. "We'll do Hilton Head before the baby comes. Keep readin’.” 

"Damn, the cure to cancer must be in here," Patrice joked before continuing. 

"California is a great place to raise a family. You don't have any kids yet, but you and your wife are thinking about it. I don't want to spoil who it is, but at some point, you'll try to get her to stop working…again. It doesn't matter how much you try to convince her, she still wants to work because she's good at her job. She's good at everything. So, give up and let her do what she wants." 

Patrice still hadn't connected the dots as she looked back up at Terry and smirked. "Well, sorry to whoever that lady is. Maybe in another lifetime."

"Yeah," he laughed before Patrice moved to the next paragraph. "Maybe."

"Not to get too mushy, but we really love her. It's not like the silly, made-up love in movies. It's the love mom and dad have. The kind where you laugh and joke all the time. She's still stubborn, but you know how to talk to her better, so you argue a lot less. At least about the serious stuff. That's the cool part about marrying your best friend. You know each other for a long time and things just make sense because they always have when she's around." 

Patrice wished she could blame the catch in her throat and the sting of tears at her waterline on pregnancy hormones and not the rush of sudden realization once she looked up at Terry. "Oh, Terrence. That's me." she sniffled, trying to catch stray droplets before they hit the page and distorted the next lines. 

"When you win on Sunday and Monday nights, she's always on the sidelines to tell you that you played a good game, except when you don't. Then she gets all sassy like she used to in school. She still doesn't like football all that much, but she shows up anyway in your jersey. It's dope."

"Some of that held up," Terry chimed in, half-joking as he reached across the table for Patrice's free hand. "You still don't like football, and don't hold back if I'm fucking up." 

She laughed and shrugged. "At least I'm consistent." 

Consistent, his greatest support system, the most complete love he'd ever known – Terry could go down the list rattling off Patrice's best attributes and contributions but preferred to let her read the most intense thoughts his limited teenaged mind could concoct in a 15-minute journal entry.

"I'm probably not supposed to tell you the truth, but I don't know if all of this will come true. I'm not asking you to do all that, even though having all that money would be super cool! Just make sure you're happy. Be happy and marry your best friend as soon as you think she'll say yes. I'll be pretty mad if you don't do that. Hopefully, you'll be writing a letter to me soon. I wanna know if it all panned out."

Thirty-plus-year-old Terry considered writing back to his younger self many times. Once, after basic training when the anguish of a newly broken heart and being ripped away from the comforts of home brought with it what he later came to know as a deep depression. Then again, on his 26th birthday, for continuity's sake. The third time, he'd typed his way through four pages of explanation, needing to level set with a past version of himself regarding all the ways he'd come up short but planned to make good on all his promises. He couldn't bring himself to continue when he reread three days worth of incoherent thoughts. Not without all the pieces to the puzzle. Now, though, with a rock on his best friend's ring finger and happiness permeating every layer of his being, he could think of more than a few things to write about. 

"A lot of my life was never part of the plan," Terry started once Patrice had read off the letter's final goodbye. "I wasn't supposed to be a Marine or still live in Fayetteville past my 18th birthday. I'm damn sure if that version of me were around, he'd be fuckin' pissed we haven't seen the ocean in over 20 years," he laughed along with Patrice as she pushed water droplets off her round cheeks. "But, baby, you have always been the goal. Even when I was stupid and far away. I need you to know that." 

Sure, Patrice understood the words from his lips and the fact that they were some of the sweetest sentiments she'd ever had directed in her favor. Grasping Terry's love, enduring for over a decade in all its staggering depth and complexity, was something totally different – something she'd spend lifetimes trying to unpack. 

Still, she allowed her legs to carry her and their unborn child around the table to sit in her second favorite seat, just to feel his warmth radiate across her skin. "I know." Soft lips connected for a sweet kiss their younger selves would blush at if they were present. Patrice cupped Terry's face in her hands. "Thank you for loving me the way you always have, babe. When you write back to that version of yourself, I hope you tell him how much I love being by your side. I loved you then, and I love you even more now. Make sure you tell him that, okay? Tell him he wasn't the only one excited about marrying their best friend one day." 

"I'll let him know." A partial truth. He'd eventually get around to trying out the journal his mother had gifted him years ago and unleashing years of updates onto lined pages. He owed 2009 Terry a rundown of what his life had become. 

But Terry couldn't tell such a young, impressionable mind about how they explored each other like professionals deep into the night. He couldn't share how her skin still felt like premium silk against his all these years later. Or how he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be inside her. One time wasn't enough. Twice couldn't come close. He needed her until he was a panting, weak mess. And even when he felt like he couldn't go anymore, hearing Patrice call his name for one last time energized him enough to push the thought of fatigue to the back of his mind. 

With her head hanging off the right edge of the bed and looking up at him expectantly, Terry leaned down to kiss her plump, swollen lips. "After this, we're getting ready for bed, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." Though sweet as pie, the glint in Patrice's dark eyes communicated the final decision was all hers. They were done when she was done. 

Her fingers danced up her torso, taking a short pitstop at nipples saluting their favorite person to twist and pull before taking hold of her prize for the night. Terry jerked forward as he watched her under heavy lids. He'd get to his end of the bargain in a few. Watching her slide his leaking tip across her pursed lips was the main attraction. She hummed to herself, satisfied with the small mess she'd made across her mouth, before welcoming him inside her throat. 

Terry caressed her cheek, using his thumb to clean up wayward saliva. "Two taps when you need a break. One when you want to stop."

Patrice took in the instructions and discarded them just as quickly. His care was endearing, but she didn't wait over a decade for their first Valentine's Day together to take a break. Breathing through her nose, she took him in inch by inch, stroking the back of his thighs lovingly while he hissed and moaned his way through shallow strokes. 

Modified 69 needed two to make the experience complete. Blinking back into the present, Terry reached across the comforter to grab the fully charged purple stimulator, waiting to jump into the fun. His rough palms rubbed a soothing path across her belly, stopping to appreciate the gentle slope on his way to the warmth between her thighs. 

"Keep 'em open for me, pretty," he murmured, more focused on the clear strings of arousal connecting his fingers to her clit. He pulled them back to savor her taste for the umpteenth time. A light smack against her pussy produced a needy moan that sounded like music to his ears. 

Rhythmic suction on both ends of the spectrum kept them loud enough to wake the neighborhood. The depths of Patrice's throat were always a welcomed home for him. Wet and sloppy head the way he liked it kept Terry grinding the vibrator against her clit to feel the vibration of her moans against him. As much as they wanted to go forever, this type of pleasure would ensure forever didn't last too long.

Saliva pooled at the corners of Patrice's lips. Glistening arousal from being edged over and over with her small but mighty little friend created a puddle on the towel beneath her behind. She cried for relief Terry wasn't willing to grant. He wanted a photo finish – something to make their first Valentine's fuck worth it. He pulled the toy away and slowly slid himself out of her mouth, earning a small mewl in disappointment. 

He grinned down at her before gripping her chin. "Tongue out for me, Piggy." Patrice did as she was told, receiving her favorite form of payment in return. Spit kept them tethered to each other in a lewd display of affection until she had all she could handle. "You ready?" 

"Mhmm," she hummed, nodding despite the ache in her neck. 

Casting the toy aside and bracing himself on the bed, Terry resolved to let himself go and give Patrice what she really wanted. Methodical strokes to elicit gags and gargles sexy enough to make any man combust filled the room while he fucked her face silly. A fantasy turned into a reality. She held herself steady by his thighs, pressing crescents into the flesh as the bed rocked beneath her. Time turned into an outdated, meaningless concept second to receiving and giving pleasure in her world.

"Fuck," Terry whispered to the ceiling with his eyes clamped shut. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm about to –" 

Patrice wanted to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for. He'd given her sweet gestures, affirming words, and absolute filth in equal measure. She felt like she should've been thanking him instead. Her only regret was being deprived of seeing the look on his face when he crossed the finish line and drained himself on her chin and throat with a shuddering moan he didn't have time to be embarrassed about. Terry's hands pumped at his shaft until he was spent and gasping for breath, leaving Patrice to run her hands up and down his hips for comfort. 

But one was not two, and she still deserved her happy ending. Terry's trembling fingers regained enough strength to grab the still buzzing helper and press it against Patrice's clit, not letting up as her hips jolted off the bed and her thighs tried to close. 

He held one leg against the mattress and pulled his lip beneath his top row of teeth to remain focus. 

She called his name for mercy, but the plea went unanswered. "Terrence!" Still nothing. Only the maniacal flash of lust in his eyes greeted her. "Oh my – ooooh! It's too much! It's too much."

It wasn't enough. Not until her body seized and heavy breathing turned into silent gasps. Patrice gripped him tight as she used all her strength to prop up on her elbows and take part in the water show unfolding beneath her. Two firsts in one night. 

"That's my girl," Terry praised without letting up. "That's my good girl. You see what you doin'?" 

"Yes!" Patrice shouted, unable to stop her body from reacting. 

Terry bent at the waist to kiss the top of her head. "Breathe, Treecey. Don't hold it in." 

In through your nose, out through your mouth. The words became muffled in Patrice's ears, only gaining clarity when the ringing ceased and her breathing evened. She leaned against Terry's chest to smile up at him, covered in his essence, finally satisfied. "I look insane, huh?"

Terry plucked at a stray lash extension and chuckled. "You look beautiful. My pretty baby." He kissed her forehead. "Always have been. Mean it." 

His. In sickness and in health. For rich or for poor. On Valentine's Day or a random Wednesday afternoon. Terry, in all his life's stages and every universe, Patrice Ellis Richmond was known to him as one word: mine.

—————-

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[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin��� happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

[ladybugsimblr]

essence and iambkay Bailey Kay graces the cover of the Holiday & Business Issue, where she opens up about her decision to step back from her career as an entertainer. In this exclusive feature, Bailey discusses new creative ventures, the transition to executive, and redefining motherhood, while still choosing the retired-ish life. Check the link in our bio for the full cover story.

snippets from the article under the cut

The Lion Queen Bailey Kay is rewriting the rules of success. From center stage to behind the scenes, iconic performer to visionary executive, and still just Babe/Mom. The Queen's reign continues and she's doing it her way.

By Leandria Flex Photography - Quinton Black Styling - Izzy Fabulous

-

So you weren’t lying to us when you said “I just fell in love and I just quit my job”!

“Haaaa!! Facts! Mood! All of the above! That’s hilarious, but you are so right. I am truly in love with my family and that love absolutely influenced me to release my job. But my love for music and entertaining makes it a temporary release. I’m calling it retired-ish. Some time to recenter and refocus.”

A step back to move forward.  

“Yes exactly. That’s perfect!”

In a surprising announcement, global music sensation Bailey Kay has revealed her decision to leave behind her illustrious career as an entertainer. However, Bailey Kay’s departure from the spotlight does not signal the end of her influence in the music industry. Embracing her passion for creativity, she will be transitioning into roles behind the scenes with her production and management company, B Side Entertainment. This strategic move allows her to be her own boss, mentor and nurture emerging talent, and continue her creative endeavors on her own time without the relentless demands of others.

With the arrival of her fourth child right around the corner, Bailey has expressed a deep desire to prioritize her role as a mother and create a more regular lifestyle for her family.

“You don't understand how I can't wait to be that football and dance mom, at all the games and recitals, yelling loud as hell, embarrassing my kids with love. They're already threatening to ban me and I don't care! I’d rather them be sicka me instead of missing me.”

“I’ve always felt I had to rush back to work after having my babies and my husband has been gracious and patient enough to let me do my thing. I just want to do it differently now for him as well as our kids. He’s about to be sicka me too. I’m packing his lunch with a side of selfies to remind him he’s loved ha. Actually no, I’m pulling up to his studio with lunch in a trench coat and stilettos.”

“Yes! Option B! And the B stands for Baby Number 5.”

Sir. You’re still on thin ice with the butterflies for this baby bump. Relax. But we understand.

I'm so here for you adding lion to your butterfly spirit. It's giving fierce but soft, wild and free, beauty on level 1000.

“Yassss! I might need to borrow that. This role as Nala and my involvement in the re-making of the classic film and soundtrack for The Lion King has been so inspiring. The strong themes of journey and legacy really resonated with me. I can't wait for everyone to enjoy the movie with their families and then experience my take on the story through new music.”

Wait. Are you saying a whole new album too?

“That would be the perfect retired-ish parting gift. Don't you think?”

[cutielando]

conflict of interest | rafe cameron

synopsis: in which Rafe defends your honor

pairing: rafe cameron x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

Everyone on the island knew you were the Kook Princess. That title had long been taken from Sarah, specifically ever since you started dating Rafe Cameron, the renowned Kook Prince.

Life with Rafe was everything you had ever imagined it to be and so much more. 

He took care of you, made sure you never lacked anything, spoiled you rotten with gifts, spa days, holidays, boat days, movie nights, adventures, everything you could ever think of.

You two loved each other more than anything, your shared love proving to be a force to be reckoned with.

However, not everybody believed that what you and Rafe had was unbreakable. Amongst that crowd was also Topper, Rafe's best friend.

Topper knew how Rafe was, they had known each other ever since they were little kids. He knew how possessive and protective Rafe could get over things, especially over you.

But he couldn't help it.

He couldn't help the way your presence made him feel, the way butterflies would just go wild inside of his stomach every time he would hear your laugh or see your smile, he would just go numb every time he would smell your perfume, the sweet flowery scent he had come to obsess over.

Breaking up with Sarah meant he got to see other people, explore the island a little more. And the lucky bee had been you.

You didn't like Topper. Not in the slightest. You had always found him a little weird and too much of a soft puppy dog who couldn't think for himself.

Your heart and everything belonged to Rafe and only to Rafe. 

Of course, the both of you had seen the way Topper would stare at you at parties or when you would hang out with the other Kooks at someone's house. The way he would be way too eager to help you with anything just so he could get some time alone with you.

Rafe had been furious at first, of course. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of someone stealing you away from him. That was just not an option. He loved you way too much to let himself lose you.

Especially to someone like Topper.

Which is why the current situation you had found yourself in was not favorable for anybody.

Rafe had only left you alone for maybe 2 minutes while he went to the kitchen to get a refill for the both of you. You had been left talking to a good friend of yours when Topper suddenly appeared in front of you, drinking out of a red cup and swaying from side to side.

"Heyyyyy, Y/N" he was slurring so badly that you could barely understand what he was saying.

"Hi, Top" you smiled at him and redirected your attention back to the conversation you had been having with your friend.

That didn't seem to satisfy his need for conversation, because the next thing you know he was pulling your arm so he could get you to face him.

"Can we talk? I've got somethin I've been meanin to tell ya" he said, his grip not letting up.

You looked around, your eyes searching for Rafe. You knew Topper was harmless, but you were very uncomfortable with the way he was touching you and you knew Rafe would cause a scene if he saw it.

"Topper, I really don't think it's a good idea right now" you said, plastering a convincing fake smile on your face while subtly trying to get him to let go of your arm.

Your attempt proved unsuccessful.

"Come on, don't be a bitch. Rafe doesn't even have to know about this" Topper continued to insist, downing the remaining alcohol from his cup before grabbing your other arm. "I've been meaning to confess something to you, way before you and Rafe got together, I just didn't have the courage to do it. I think you need to know how I feel" his eyes were staring at you so hopeful, like a puppy in the rain.

It made you feel a little bad, but once you saw Rafe over Topper's shoulder marching through the crowd, his face contorted in anger, you knew a fight was most probably about to go down.

"You better watch what you're going to say very carefully" Rafe threatened from behind Topper, his eyes trained on the grip the blonde had on you.

You could see Topper's demeanor change, even drunk knowing that he shouldn't have even thought about messing with Rafe's girlfriend.

"Yo man, I was just playing a little, you know how I get at parties and shit" Topper finally let go of your arms before turning around to face your boyfriend, trying to talk himself out of the shitty situation he had found himself in.

"No, no, no. I'm curious now. What was the important thing that you wanted to tell my girlfriend while I wasn't here?" Rafe crossed his arms, his stance all that more threatening.

By this moment, you had backed down from the two with your friend, watching their interaction closely. You knew Rafe was about to lose his shit any moment, and you also knew better than to get yourself involved while he was this tense.

"I was just trying to make conversation and keep her company while you were away. You know how many creeps are at these parties" Topper slurred, sniffing and searching Rafe's eyes for any indication as to what he was thinking.

"Topper, I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me what you were doing with my girlfriend before I beat your ass so hard you won't feel your body" Rafe's voice had now turned downright dangerous, which you surprisingly found hot.

"I wasn't trying to do anything, man, she's yours and I would never-" Topper couldn't finish his sentence before Rafe punched him in the face, making Topper drop down on the floor in front of you.

Rafe kneeled down over his body and started punching him repeatedly, each time repeating "Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend" until he had to be physically pulled away from him.

One look in your direction and you knew your night had come to an end. You took his hand and let him lead you to his truck, not minding the blood that had transferred to your hand.

"Are you okay?" he questioned once you were both in the safe space of his car, his breathing now back to normal.

You nodded, looking worriedly at his bloody knuckles.

"I should be asking you that" you mumbled as you took his right hand in yours, inspecting the bruises already starting to form.

He shrugged, seemingly not in any pain which was a relief to you. "I'm fine, Topper has it worse than me. I'm just glad nothing happened and I came in time"

You leaned over the console and kissed his cheek, showing him that you weren't mad at him for getting into yet another fight.

"My knight in shinning armor. What would I do without you?" you joked, but there was truth behind your words. You really didn't know what you would do without him.

"I love you" he kissed your palm, intertwining your fingers with his.

"I love you too, my big bad boy"

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[n0n-sen-se]

💌 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫. . .

includes ;; genya, muichiro content ;; pure fluff. a/n ;; stresstember eh? the perfect time to indulge in some adorable escapism! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

☆☆☆ # genya shinazugawa !

genya regularly receives check-ups at the Butterfly Mansion, thus you tend to bump into him a ton!

this is where things start to take a turn. . . he stops getting so angry and quick to shut you down. . . and instead, he starts watching you train a little more, keeping idle tabs on your schedule, daydreaming of you when he should be focusing on training. . .

then it hits him:

he's got a crush ?!

to this boy love literally feels lethal.

he can't function. at all. he's unable to stand or talk to you for more than a few seconds without becoming flustered and wracked with nerves.

so loving you from afar is the simplest-easiest option.

he stares a ton, and tries hard not to get caught.

daydreams when he shouldn't- and at the worst times- you can only get punched in the face while training so many times before you start to wonder if having a crush is really worth it.

i'm pretty sure anyone could see the reason this quick-tempered boy suddenly turns shy when he's around you.

and he hates admitting it. (what is he supposed to do? he's never been in love before?)

there are times when he's 100% undoubtably sure that you're busy- or far, far away from the scene of the crime. . . he'll sneak into your room (after double checking that the coast is clear, again) he'll leave a few wildflowers next to your nightstand.

just the thought that he's showing romantic affection towards you has his heart palpitating. . . even if it is, technically indirect.

has him paranoid as hell, like somehow even after all his precautions, you'll just know it was him. if you suspect him, or bring it up, he'll vehemently deny everything.

(whenever he leaves flower btw, it'll be up to a week before he works up the courage to bring another bunch, and in between he tries to garner the courage to talk to you. . . without success)

he'd actually get pretty comfortable with this scenario, and eventually saves up enough to produce a small vase to hold all the flowers.

and it feels like the biggest step yet!

its a painfully simple pot, and he feels he could do better, but he's tied a woven red string around the neck to help. . . at least a little.

you know. . . in the future he could tie notes to it. the thought has his ears burning red hot, and he flees the scene just as quickly.

☆☆☆ # muichiro tokito !

honestly, it doesn't fully occur to him that he is a secret admirer at first.

he just one day happens to notice you because you caught his eye. nothing in particular, there was just something. . . bright about your presence.

your eyes? your smile? who could really say. all he knows is that your very interesting to look at when you're around.

even your voice catches his attention, like the sound of bells to his ears. its calming and also so alluring? how are you able to charm him like this?

the couple times you caught him staring he looked away quickly, then he starts wondering why he's afraid of being caught?

that's when the idea of an idea starts to form in his head.

a crush!

honestly, i think he'd smile to himself at the thought. its all very confusing and all very new and exciting!

he'd stare a ton and try to be subtle. . . but then fail at that too. (at this point he's just standing beside a tree rather than behind it?)

muichiro gifts you things that remind him of you: things that are eye-catching and interesting to him.

. . . something that holds his attention as much as you do. . .

mostly things he's found, like the shiniest shells or rocks, broken ornaments or porcelain he's found. the best would probably be a tiny pearl he. . . acquired.

instructs his crow to deliver them to you, which in turn means you get hit in the head with said object- you don't need a more obvious clue to know that his crow hates. your. guts. (don't worry she's just a little jealous)

at first, he completely forgets that he's sent anything to you at all.

until he see's you holding them and it all connects.

silently hopes you to make the connection too. and i don't think he'd mind being caught at all. (its kind of like a fun game he's playing, that subsequently causes the faintest blush to appear across the bridge of his nose)

thinks about you maybe a bit too much, and starts to get excited at the prospect of being in love or a relationship! what would it be like to hold your hand, or even have all of your attention for once? (now he's just smiling up at the clouds like an adorable idiot)

if he writes anything (a note?) its just doodles and drawings he's done that he then hands over to his crow to deliver.

actually very fond of leaving you snacks too. . . or straight up offering to share while (innocently) asking you what ❛all those things in your hands❜ are.

[moopiter]

What Do You Get the Man Who Has Everything?

Homelander hates his birthday, fake pleasantries and gifts, but he loves his secret significant other. Homelander X GN Reader, 1.4K little drabble.

Ao3

---♡︎---

Cheers and applause ring out from the TV.

It’s Homelander’s birthday.

Even if it’s a day Vought handpicked for ultimate viewership, at the very least it’s still his day.

You’d watched the celebration cross-legged in front of the TV, taking in every detail of his expression. It was dark now, of course. Normally he would’ve snuck off to your apartment by now, but these were peak viewership hours. Your heart clenched, trying to will some semblance of happiness into him across the city, wishing you could tell him he wasn’t alone.

He knew you were watching. His little secret he kept hidden away, tucked inside an unsuspecting apartment in Manhattan.

He’d smile, wave, and say his little lines like the good poster boy he was. Well, until he could sneak away to his little slice of heaven and get away from it all.

You tied off the last bit of yarn in your nimble fingers. It was plush and soft.

The little stuffed eagle you’d been pouring your heart into momentarily blocked your line of sight of the TV as you held its delicate body in front of your eyes.

What do you get the man who has everything at his fingertips, and nothing at the same time?

Do you get him something one of his assistants could bring him in a second? Soap or cologne he’d only pretend to like? Another nonsensical book he wouldn’t really read? There wasn't any good options, nothing truly heartfelt. 

It took weeks to crochet, and learning how to do it was no easy feat.

“Thank you again, everyone, for the birthday wishes! But I want all of you to remember—you're the real heroes!”

Your eyes glanced behind the plush creature you’d made to the TV.

His eyes were sad even though he smiled so brightly.

He hated today; he always did. But it was attention, and he’d take it, even if it only rubbed salt farther into his wounds.

Never knowing his real birthday, and never getting to have a genuine, sincere celebration made it hard to put on a fake one.

It was his first one since he’d taken a liking to you, and you’d fix that. Looking back on all the stupid televised celebrations they'd put on for him for years, it made you sick thinking about how truly alone he must've felt all those years before you'd met him.

You sighed as you grabbed the doll needle, threading it with ease. It slid past the soft yarn like nothing and hooked through the little black eyes you’d picked out. You worked gingerly, love in each stitch.

The little crochet eagle came to life in your hands.

His charismatic voice brought the show back to the forefront of your mind. “-Goodnight everyone!” He fake smiled and waved as he finally walked off stage, but it quickly turned into a scowl just before the camera panned back to center.

Yep. That guy was totally fired.

You hugged the little eagle close to your chest as you stood, smiling quietly to yourself.

It fit inside the little box you’d picked out snuggly.

You set the package on the little table in front of the couch, turning to fluff the pillows and blankets you’d set out to make the night as comfortable as possible.

The program behind you switched to Cameron Coleman. Homelander’s birthday special was officially over.

You absentmindedly turn off the TV off with a click.

It took a lot to keep your fluttering heart under control. Butterflies.

He’d be home soon; his real home.

This wasn’t somewhere he had to be someone else. It took a long time to get it through to him, but he didn’t put the fake smile on for you anymore. He came to you vulnerable, jealous, angry. It didn't matter if he was soaked in blood or soaked from the rain, you’d always understand.

The unmistakable ruffle of his cape caught your attention. You looked up just as his red boots graced the concrete balcony on the other side of the glass.

He was smiling, but those blue eyes of his were still sad.

You hurried over to the door, you’d fix that.

The dull throb in his chest eased as he smiled back at you earnestly.

You smiled brightly as you flung the door open, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the little sanctuary you loved sharing with him. “Happy Birthday!”

The weight of the world left his shoulders as he crossed the threshold, letting you drag him along.

He always loved your forwardness about things.

You gave him understanding eyes as you led him over to the soft space you’d made for him. “How was it? Did you have fun today?”

“You know it’s not really for me.” He sighed as he gathered his cape to the side and sat down. It really wasn’t, none of it was.

You smiled, gently cupping his face for a moment to gaze into his eyes. “I know, I know.”  

The rest of the world would never see the suffering he hid so carefully. He’d shown his pain and loneliness to you alone, the only one who’d ever hold him like this. He loved attention, but the care and compassion you always showed him was beyond any of that. For you, he was a gentle giant, pliant in your hands.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your fingertips left his jaw, moving to grab the little gift from the table to lighten things up a little. “But I am! Aaaaaand-” You held the modest box out happily. “So is this!”

He smiled genuinely. You’d even lined the box with cheap sheets of zinc. Good thinking.

“Why are you so nervous?” He chuckled as he took the fragile thing in his hands, setting it in his lap.

Of course he could tell; he could read people better than they could read themselves.

You sighed as you sat down beside him. “I just really hope you like it.”

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be nervous! I’ll love it. And the zinc—now that was a good touch. I haven’t gotten a surprise gift like this since... well, that wasn’t exactly a gift."

His thoughts would go anywhere but where either of you wanted them to.

“Stop thinking! Open it!” You gestured to the box with a laugh, glancing back and forth between his expression and the box excitedly.

Your heart beating faster in anticipation was music to his ears.

He’d play nice and give you what you wanted. Besides, he wanted to know why on earth you could possibly be so nervous about something so trivial.

He lifted the little cardboard lid, the little box slipping out from underneath it and landing back down in his lap ceremoniously.

A little pair of black eyes stared back up at him.

Your little heart was pattering away like a rabbit as you waited for his reaction.

He scrunched his brows and smirked, gently pulling the little guy from the box and holding it awkwardly, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get this little guy?”

You shifted a bit, twiddling with your thumbs. “I made it for you.”

He paused for a moment, still holding it out in front of him.

“You—you made this?” He smiled, looking over the bundle of soft yarn and stuffing with a newfound appreciation as he looked over the loops of yarn.

You nodded happily.

His eyes weren’t so sad, but he still seemed wary. “You really made this just for me?”

You laughed as you nodded again. He always needed reassurance, but you were always ready to give. Your heart wasn’t hammering anymore, just beating sweetly as you looked at him with those caring eyes like always. “Just for you. Do you like it?”

He seemed so taken aback it was almost funny.

“Like it? I love it! I-I don’t even know what to say. This is… perfect.” He smiled as his eyes finally met yours. He’d never had a stuffed animal, let alone one so special. “Thank you.”

You smiled ear to ear as you practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I’m so happy you love it so much!”

He laughed lightheartedly. “This is the best gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

You laughed sweetly, snuggling against him just a little tighter.

He leaned back, pulling you against him with one arm and holding the little stuffed eagle protectively in the other, matching your genuine smile as you both relaxed into the couch.

“I’ll cherish it forever. Just like you.”

[snooper-sneak]

Wishlist: you, you, and you!

Pairings: Bachira Meguru X fem!reader, Karasu Tabito x fem!reader, Reo Mikage x fem!reader

Synopsis: Spending Christmas with your boyfriends part 2

Bachira Meguru

Bachira loves holidays, especially Christmas. He never really had many people too close to him, other than spending time with his mom of course, but with you this day was even better. You two had non-stop activities for just today, you both went out on a little stroll through the city, enjoying the Christmas decor and even then decorating your own house too. Hanging up lights, setting up Christmas trees, and packing presents. which you both had to do secretly to hide the surprise at midnight. With both of you together, the only option is fun!

Karasu Tabito

He would want to spend time with you privately in a way, going to a nice cozy cafe together on Christmas. After setting up your home, Karasu took you to a nice cozy cutesy cafe where you both chatted and had fun talking about Christmas wishes and about wanting to watch the stars tonight before sleeping. Maybe he would even tease you a bit and treat you a little like a kid on Christmas day getting to excited. You two would then walk hand in hand back home, a nice calming walk too as you both enjoyed each others presence on this merry day. He might be a bit of a meanie, but for you he's a bit nicer!

Sae Itoshi

Sae doesn't care too much about Christmas, its just another holiday to spend time with your relatives and such, but with you, that changed. He'd treat you like a little darling, getting you small gifts for the cold on this day. A nice sweater or a pretty scarf wrapped around your neck. And he'd even get you Christmas presents secretly. He couldn't bear you seeing him going through all the trouble to get you something special. He would leave it under the tree you got while he wasn't home, and wait for you to notice the pretty gold butterfly bracelet while he acts like nothing is wrong. Isn't he a sweetheart under that serious face!

[livingformintyoongi]

Poème | Kim Taehyung

Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all? Author’s note: Hi again! I hope everyone is well ^^ I know I had said I was going to focus on GAS? but…. Tae vampire came to my head and demanded to stay until I managed to bring him to this world :) Soooo, I don't know if most of you read this but I seriously, seriously need your help for this, I really don't know how to move it forward :(( so please, if you have any ideas on how to move it forward or any scenes you'd like there to be, send me an ask or a dm, I'd really appreciate it <3 Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human!Reader (female) AUs: Vampire!AU Word count: 4.6k Status: Unedited Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthougths Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop and @strangergraphics

What would you do if you were given the option to live for all eternity? If someone offered you the secret behind immortality and eternal youth, would you accept? Would you be capable of leaving everything behind just to avoid facing death?

Taehyung wished with all his heart that he had asked himself those questions before saying yes to the beautiful woman in the elegant dress who offered him a second chance at life—one without sickness or poverty, a life filled with luxuries and privileges he could never have had as a mere villager in the Victorian era. Something he could have never even dreamed of when he was still human.

When desperation consumes you and you don’t know what else to do to avoid falling into the clutches of death, you… accept the first offer placed in front of you, no matter how risky it may be. That was exactly what led Taehyung to an eternity of regret, suffering, and torment.

He had been blessed with eternal life, but what was the point of living until the end of time if he was alone? What was the use of existing for centuries, watching people be born and die as if they were nothing more than tiny toy soldiers with an expiration date set by a child who had decided it was time to discard them, believing he was too grown up to play with them anymore?

He refused to live an endless life if you weren’t in it.

But you had been gone for so, so long, and he could never forgive himself for it. He could never turn back time and reject the offer from the one who was now his creator. He would never see your smile again, hear your laughter, or smell the soft scent of flowers, of the forest, of you. If only he hadn’t left home that night, if only he had waited a few more minutes… If only you had gone with him, perhaps… Perhaps now, the two of you would be living a long life together, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time.

But that wasn’t how things happened. He left his home that night. He didn’t wait. You didn’t go with him. And now, his fate was sealed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be harmed, he would have eternal youth and an ethereal beauty that could make any human give him anything he asked for with just one look. He could have everything—everything except you. And that, without a doubt, was the greatest torture anyone had ever inflicted on him.

That had happened over 170 years ago, and he had spent each one of those years tormenting himself. When he was still human, he had been vibrant and full of life, a social butterfly who, even without the seductive abilities of a vampire, could charm anyone with a single smile. Now, he was nothing but the empty shell of the man he once was.

During that time, he met many like him—those with whom he managed to form something close to what he could call a "family." Jiah was his mentor, the woman who had turned him and helped him through the difficult transition from human to vampire. Chaeyoung was the second oldest, a cheerful and optimistic young woman who had been a vampire for over a thousand years. Sooah and Hoseok came next, both turned in the 15th century. Then there was him, Jiwon, and Jimin—the three of them transformed in the 19th century, all saved from the brink of death by the compassionate leader of their small group.

They had been his family until now, and though he loved them as much as he was still capable of love, his love for them would never amount to even a fraction of what he felt for you. Not even a hundred people could mend the wound in his heart, no matter how hard they tried.

He could still remember his life by your side, when his body was still warm and his heart beat in a rhythmic melody, reminding him that he was alive. The two of you met because of Taehyung’s father’s work—you were a young lady from a wealthy family, and he was the son of a tailor who barely had enough money or resources to live. Yet, you noticed him—his smile, his playful jokes, and his flirtatious charm, reserved only for you.

You weren’t supposed to be together—you both knew that. But neither of you wanted to give up, you didn’t want to lose the only real thing in your lives. So, you ran away. With no money, no place to stay, only the hope of finding a place in the world where you could live without regrets or judgment.

It was his selfishness and foolishness as a teenager that led you both to that situation.

He should have realized it was madness, that there was no way you could survive in the outside world with dreams and hopes coated in sugar and honey. This was the real world—it was cruel and ruthless, showing no mercy to anyone, no matter their age or gender.

The first few months on your own were peaceful. You traveled from town to town on horseback, living freely, loving each other with all your hearts, talking about your dreams for the future, and how exciting it would be to have a family together.

You had managed to stabilize your life—Taehyung making elegant garments for high-society ladies, and you painting beautiful portraits under a pseudonym, which he promoted and sold with his natural charm.

For the first two years, life had been peaceful. Until smallpox arrived. That was when everything fell apart. No matter where you went, how much money you had, or which doctor you saw, once you were infected, there was no escape.

You both caught it at the same time. He did everything he could to keep you both from falling into death’s hands, but it was a fatal disease—there was no cure, especially with their limited resources.

It was on a dark winter night that everything changed. You were starving, and Taehyung was determined to find something—anything—to feed you. Despite his weakened, trembling body, he walked through the dark streets of the coastal city until he reached a shop. But his body was on the verge of collapse, and he fell just a few meters away from home.

He clung to the last bit of strength he had, trying to crawl back to you if necessary—anything to avoid dying far from you. He didn’t want you to think he had abandoned you, didn’t want to make you suffer when you found out he had died in the cold, damp streets, all for the sake of bringing you something to eat. He didn’t want to die without you by his side.

That desperation was what made him accept so quickly the offer placed before him by a complete stranger. “Just one drop, and you will never feel pain again.” And he accepted. He drank whatever she gave him, clinging to the hope of surviving a few more minutes. Then, everything went black for a moment—until he opened his eyes again.

Everything felt new, as if he had been reborn and was rediscovering the world. He felt good, healthy, strong, and maybe a little thirsty—but alive. And that was all that mattered.

When the initial shock passed, he begged the woman to do the same for you, to save you just as she had saved him. She smiled kindly and let him lead her to your small home.

But she stopped before entering, giving him a look of pity and compassion. At that moment, he didn’t know that he could hear a human’s heartbeat from a distance. He didn’t know that, even before stepping inside, she already knew that you were no longer in this world, and nothing could change that—not even her blood.

Taehyung may not have died that night, but his heart… His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he laid eyes on your pale, lifeless body. His body had survived death—but his soul never would.

For a long time, his life had become a series of meaningless events that only served to make his desire to die grow stronger. He knew it was foolish to feel this way when he had what many would kill for; his eternal life was a miracle that tormented him every damn day, and he knew that would never change.

It took him 138 years to get over you—if that was even the right word to use in this context. Perhaps a more accurate way to put it would be, well, trying to forget you through other people. 138 years of solitude, where his only company was six other vampires just as reserved as he was, each keeping the scars of their previous lives a secret, each too afraid to open up to the others and relive memories of a past they all wished to forget.

The first time he tried something with a girl was because of Jimin, who insisted that he should look at someone else besides your portraits—the ones he himself had painted back when he had wanted to immerse himself in your world. He went to a stupid bar, too loud and filled with drunk and high people looking for something casual. But he didn’t want something casual. He wanted something lasting. He wanted you.

Hours passed before a rather beautiful girl approached him. Her shy smile and flushed cheeks seemed endearing, but nothing inside him stirred the way it had when he first met you; her eyes weren’t like yours, her essence wasn’t like yours. He didn’t like her, but still, he forced himself to try.

That night was the first and last time he attempted to move on with someone else. There was only a kiss, a brief brush of lips that the girl gave him as a thank-you for walking her home. That night, he cried like he hadn’t in years, clawed at his lips with his nails until they bled, and his screams were so agonizing that everyone in the house had to check if he was okay, because it sounded as if someone had just run a blade of iron straight through his body.

Taehyung felt that kiss exactly like that—like someone had just plunged an iron sword into his heart and desecrated his body in every possible way.

Sooah called him dramatic. Jiwon even mocked him for making such a fuss over a simple kiss. But it was Jiah who ordered them to be quiet and stayed by his side all night, comforting him as his tears fell ceaselessly down his cheeks.

After that day, he resolutely refused to go out with anyone else for the rest of his life. He didn’t need a replacement—he was much better off living with your memory than trying to forget it.

That was exactly how he managed to slowly overcome his pain—by treasuring your memory through the works of art he created, reliving every one of his feelings for you with each brushstroke on the blank canvas, until there was no trace left of the pain he had once felt. Now, all that remained was peace and a beautiful memory that he would keep deep in his heart for the rest of eternity.

It took him 175 years to achieve that peace—175 years in which he held onto the one thing he had left of you: your last painting, the one of a young wealthy woman standing alone in the middle of a grand ballroom. The soft tones and the contrast between the setting and the woman in her simple pastel dress gave off a strange warmth. It wasn’t one of your best paintings—he knew that better than anyone. You had created true masterpieces, works that your clients back then would have died to own. But this one… this one was simple, more discreet, with much less detail—mostly because you were already unwell when you finished it. But your essence, your touch, the feeling you poured into it… all of it was still there. And that made it the most important piece you had ever created.

That was why, as the last act of love he could offer to you and your memory, he traveled to Paris to present it at the Musée d’Orsay. The meeting with the museum’s curator was far more pleasant than he had expected, and he even considered making a generous donation after they agreed to exhibit the painting.

The inner peace he felt when his eyes saw the painting hanging on those cream-colored walls, among hundreds of other paintings from important figures of his era… was something he could never put into words. For the first time, his heart felt at ease—it did not beat, it did not pump blood, he knew that. And yet, for a second, Taehyung felt as if he had come back to life.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent around him. Despite the years, there was still a faint trace of you in it. And though it hurt to think that he would never again hold you in his arms, never again breathe in your scent, he felt happy.

Happy for you—because finally, one of your works bore your real name, because at last, people could see the incredible talent you had. This had been your dream, and somehow, he had made it come true for you.

He wondered if there was something after death, if there was truly a paradise in the afterlife. He knew that if such a place existed, you would undoubtedly be in heaven—in a paradise unlike any other, shining like the brightest star the world had ever seen. If that place was real, were you watching him from above?

What would you think of him right now? Would you be afraid of the fact that he was no longer human? Or of the fact that, in his first years as a vampire, he had taken the lives of many?

Would you still love him from that place so far away from him?

He prayed every day to a god he wasn’t sure existed, just to hold on to the hope that the answer was yes.

"How are things going over there?" Jiwon asked through the phone.

Taehyung’s feet carried him through the museum for the sixth time that afternoon. He still wasn’t in the mood to leave, and it’s not like anyone needed him at home at the moment. He would probably head to a nearby bar, have a glass of wine, and wander around the city until the sun rose again.

"Fine, I guess," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the paintings displayed in front of him. He had seen many of them online, but seeing them in person… it was definitely something completely different. Noticing the brushstrokes, the old traces of a brush over the oil paint, the colors, the size—everything was a new experience. It was like meeting the same person a second time; the feeling and the first impression could never be the same if you only saw them through a screen.

"So expressive, Kim." Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jiwon’s mocking tone. He wasn’t in the mood to be expressive, and it’s not like he was obligated to be.

"Anyway, Jiah is pretty worried. You know how she is, especially when it comes to you."

Taehyung nodded in silence, even though he was aware she would never see the gesture. Jiah was… she was like a mother to their small family. She was the one who turned them, the one who took care of them and taught them how to maintain their composure, always patient and loving with everyone. Taehyung couldn’t recall a single time when she had ever raised her voice at any of them.

He had always known, just like the others, that she had a certain weakness for him, something he associated too much with the fact that she had witnessed him fall apart upon finding you lifeless that night. She was the one who worried about him, who paid to give you a proper funeral, who helped him get through his sleepless nights, and who showed him a completely new world. She was the mother Taehyung never had, and he was grateful every single day for everything she had done for him, despite all the trouble he had dragged her into.

"I’ll be back soon, I just… I just want to say goodbye properly."

He stopped again in front of the painting he had submitted. That small pang in his chest had returned and, although for a few seconds he regretted it, the weight lifted when he saw someone else stop in front of your artwork to take a photo. He had managed to immortalize your memory—that was all that mattered.

At last, he would no longer be the only one completely in love with your art.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of them seemed to know what to say. The stillness was broken by Jiwon's soft and—unusually—understanding voice.

"Are you really okay over there, alone? We’re all a bit worried about you."

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head to glance at his elegant brown oxford shoes. When he was still human, he had longed to wear a pair like these, and now that he could afford them, half of his wardrobe revolved around them. You would probably be just as enamored with them as he was.

"I’ll be fine, Jiwon. It’s just a few days, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing."

He made his way toward the museum exit, but not before giving the painting one last look. This would be the last time he saw it—this was the final farewell. He sighed, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Besides… I need to do this alone."

"Alright, okay, I get it. It’s your healing process and all that cheesy crap you love." Jiwon let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. Even miles away, Taehyung could feel the worry in her voice. A part of him was touched by it. It was nice to see that, despite everything, she still cared for him.

"Just… call us if anything happens, okay? Jimin is about to lose his mind."

"Jimin is always about to lose his mind," he chuckled under his breath, politely nodding to the guards watching the entrance.

The first thing he saw upon stepping outside was the sky, painted in pastel hues, with a faint trace of stars beginning to emerge, preparing to turn it into a beautiful nocturnal canvas with the moon as its protagonist.

"I’m going to hang up. I need to go somewhere else before heading back to my hotel."

"Alright, I get it, you’re bored of me." Even without seeing her, Taehyung knew she was smiling on the other end of the line.

"See you."

And with that, the call ended, leaving him alone with his own thoughts once again.

He wished that becoming a vampire had meant his emotions—like his heart—simply stopped functioning. Life would be easier that way. Carrying the weight of his emotions would be… probably a little more bearable.

The soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps echoed through the dark streets of Paris, faintly illuminated by the streetlights surrounding the small, quiet alley he had chosen to escape the bustling crowd—and, in turn, his own thoughts. He had stopped by the bar he had wanted to visit for so long, but after spending a couple of hours sitting at the counter, sipping a drink he could barely taste… it was dull not being able to savor it the way he once did.

He gazed up at the night sky stretching above him, noticing how the stars seemed much closer, as if they had gathered there just to shield his eyes, rather than simply existing as part of nature’s design.

Tomorrow, he would probably buy a ticket back to Korea, still debating whether to purchase a first-class seat or a regular one. Jiah had given him more than enough money to indulge in any luxury he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. He had his own savings, and not just a small amount—old trinkets he once considered worthless centuries ago were now worth millions, a fortunate advantage for all of them.

A soft melody from a nearby radio pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed the old record store beside him, still open for some reason. It had a distinctly vintage, understated charm—exactly Taehyung’s style. He studied its exterior, noting the yellow sign with red lettering perched atop the roof, reading: Le cœur de la musique.

In the display window, several vinyl records from the ’70s and ’80s were neatly arranged, among them the famous Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, the very song now enveloping the alleyway with its gentle notes and romantic lyrics.

Taehyung truly loved that song. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into more than just his ears—letting it settle into his body as well. With graceful movements, ones that seemed almost ingrained in him, Taehyung began swaying to the melody. He had been a great dancer in his youth. When you were both just children, you had asked him to be your dance partner so you could practice. The two of you had ended up falling completely in love with the warm, intimate feeling of it. Even when your bodies had grown cold, even when death gnawed at your bones and drained your souls, neither of you had ever stopped dancing.

His memories of you returned, vivid as always; he could almost feel the soft scent of your skin against his nose, the sensation of your hair brushing against his rough fingertips, your forehead resting gently on his shoulder, your breath against his chest. It was almost as if you were still there with him, dancing in the empty streets of Paris, in front of an old record store, your hearts swaying in perfect harmony beneath the stars.

His feet continued moving across the pavement until a soft click snapped him out of his trance.

Instantly, all of his senses sharpened. He halted his movements at once, scanning his surroundings for whoever had made that sound. He knew it was a camera. And he knew it hadn’t been close—if it had been, he would have smelled the person’s blood by now, wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes flickered with a brief glint of alertness as he surveyed the alley. That’s when he finally noticed her. At the far end of the alleyway, a young woman stood frozen in place, her face still partially hidden behind the camera lens aimed directly at him.

Before he could even think, his feet carried him forward, ready to demand why she had captured such a personal moment without his permission. But then, the delicate scent of strawberries and roses reached his nose. And right after—her blood.

Sweet. Addictive. More tempting than any other scent he had encountered in his 175 years of existence.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung swore his heart beat again, just from the sheer intoxication of it. His gums began to itch as his fangs pressed against the inside of his lip, the thirst for blood growing exponentially with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the overwhelming urge to feed suffocating him, clouding his mind.

Until she lowered the camera.

Until he saw your eyes.

Large. Bright. Filled with life, staring at him from the end of the alley.

His heart—still lifeless, still incapable of pumping blood—felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. And though he had no need to breathe, he swore the air caught in his lungs.

Did that make sense? Of course not, but you—standing right there, smiling at him as if you hadn’t died in his arms over 170 years ago—didn’t make sense either.

And yet, there you were.

The same eyes. The same lips. Your hair was different, yes, but everything else… everything else was exactly as he remembered. Exactly the same as the day death had stolen you from him.

Was this some kind of punishment? Retribution for the countless lives he had taken in his early years as a vampire?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you blurted out the moment you noticed the man standing just a few feet away from you. A soft, warm blush quickly spread across your cheeks—not only from the embarrassment of being caught photographing a complete stranger without permission but also because that very stranger, the one now standing before you, was breathtakingly handsome. And now he was looking directly at you, so intensely that you could feel his gaze burning into your skin.

“I-It’s just that I was on my way back to my hotel, and I saw you dancing alone. You had this melancholic expression that was just so captivating from here and… I’m sorry, that’s no excuse for what I did, I’ll delete the photo right away!”

As you fumbled over your apology, nervously gripping your camera once again, Taehyung took the opportunity to examine you—every detail of your face. You had the same beauty mark beneath your left eye. The same faint scar between your index and middle fingers. Even your voice—one he remembered as if it were his own—was exactly the same.

Your clumsy way of speaking.

The pink flush on your cheeks.

Your long eyelashes.

There was no doubt in his mind. The young woman standing before him was you.

“I…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s your name?”

He watched as your eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t help but notice how your lips parted slightly at the unexpected question.

Ah.

He still remembered the way your lips moved against his—soft yet intoxicating, slow yet sensual, always keeping him on edge. He remembered the way you used to smile whenever he playfully nibbled on your lower lip.

He missed it.

He missed you.

“Oh! S-Sorry, how rude of me,” you chuckled nervously, carefully lowering your camera so that it hung freely around your neck. The strap dug slightly into your exposed skin, but it was the safest way to carry it without accidentally dropping it. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, savoring every letter of your name.

He knew it. He knew it. It was impossible for you to be anyone else.

His eyes began to sting as the reality of what was happening finally settled in.

After 175 miserable years—

You had come back to him.

Looking exactly as you had the last time he saw you.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his own, gently, fearful that the moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you would disappear.

But you didn’t.

You were still there when his lips pressed lightly against your knuckles, inhaling your scent as discreetly as possible.

So this is how you smelled when you were full of life.

Without an illness slowly stealing you away. Your blood had the sweetest scent he had ever known, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes at the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart echoing in his ears, proof that you were alive, proof that you were here.

Taehyung had never believed in God, but now, with you standing before him— he could only describe this as a miracle.

Masterlist.

[scarletwinterxx]

i might just love you 'til the end - joshua hong imagine

i admit this is very self indulgent, it's my bday and i wanted to write this so here we are🥺🥺😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

A cold bed is not something you expected you'd wake up to on the morning of your birthday. Usually you'd wake up with your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you like your own personal weighted blanket but that wasn't the case today thus prompting you to get up and go look around the house for the said missing boyfriend.

Thinking he might've went to the gym so you didn't expect to see him until later but then you hear some noises coming from the kitchen and some music playing.

Making your way downstairs and to the kitchen, you see Joshua standing with his back to you while holding a spatula in one hand. Too lost in his own world, humming along the tune of Sunday Morning playing in the background.

You smile as you walk towards him, catching him off guard when he suddenly feel a pair of arms hug him from behind.

"Hey, you. You're up early" he says, looking around to catch a glimpse of you

You cuddle against his back, seeking the warmth you missed this morning. He lets you be, knowing how clingy you get when you're sleepy. He doesn't mind it one bit when you sleep on him or fall alseep when you're with him. To him it's an honor, knowing you feel safe around him to fall asleep quickly after you told him you used to struggle with that before meeting him.

Feeling content with the quiet surrounding, he gently sways back and forth as he finishes the stack of pancakes with you still clinging to him.

"You weren't there so I woke up" you mumbled after a while, earning a chuckle from him

"Sorry, I wanted to make us breakfast. I was going to take it up to you but since you're already here, let me set up the table after I finish with the pancakes"

"I'll do it, you finish here" you tell him, giving him a final squeeze before separating from him. Before you can walk away, he grabs you by the arm making you crash back into his awaiting arms

He looks down at you with a smile, eyes locking with your eyes "Happy birthday, my darling"

You grin at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips "Thank you, baby"

"Oh and I got you flowers, that's not my main gift I'll give that later but I hope you like them" he says as he grab the bouquet from the table to pass it to you

"Josh, these are so pretty" you coo at him, "Thank, baby. Really. You don't have to get me anything but I appreciate all the effort, you really do know how to make this day extra special"

"How can I not when my most favorite person is born today. I'm just so happy to be celebrating this day with you"

You put the flowers down to give him another hug, Joshua does the same. Wrapping his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. He can hear your giggles, the sound making all the butterflies erupt in his stomach. He really truly is deeply in love with you.

"You're my favorite person too. I'm so thankful for you" you tell him

He gives your cheeks and your nose kisses before kissing you on the lips, smiling as he takes your breath away like he always does whenever he kisses you.

"Tell me what you want, name it. Anything"

"Really? Anything?"

"Mhm, what do you have in mind?" he asks, noticing the cheeky look in your eyes

"If I say I want to celebrate all of my birthdays like this, us in our kitchen cooking breakfast"

He looks at you, your future together already unfolding in his mind. Of course there's no one else he can imagine spending the rest of his life with but you.

He leans down, capturing your lips once again before answering you

"Consider it done, I'm yours forever my darling"

You smile hearing him say the word forever. For him, you'd believe it actually exists. You'd use all your birthday wishes just to make sure you're going to stay right where you are right now.

"Get ready for a whole day of romantic gestures and all out cheesiness because I'm only getting started" he jokes, putting you down before getting back to cooking

"Wouldn't celebrate this day any other way"